Alden and I were sitting talking a couple of nights ago, thinking that at some time in the forseeable future, we and our respective spouses might like to take a memorable trip. Perhaps a canal boat in France? Maybe bicycle down the valley of the Rhine from Andermatt in Switzerland to Rotterdam? How about motorcycles across the Nullarbor? Alden, being a nautical type, is keen on something involving flimsy craft floating on large bodies of water. He was telling me about the trip from Vancouver Island northwards which can be made in kayaks, and that it is possible to get collapsible kayaks that can easily go into the boot of a car. As he spoke, I was absent mindedly tapping on my PDA, downloading my email. As the words "collapsible kayaks" were coming out of his mouth, an email arrived from my friend Murray Broom whose business is making collapsible kayaks. Murray doesn't email me often; perhaps 3 or 4 times a year. I won't take this as a confirming sign from God on the Kayaks in Canada idea just yet, but it was a bit odd.
Many years ago, I was involved in an internet discussion on evolution. One of the other participants advised me to read the book The Beak of the Finch by Jonathan Weiner. The next day, I left my office at 3:00 to collect my daughter Bridget from school. She needed picking up at 3:15 and the journey took ten minutes: I had 5 minutes to spare. Passing the Hamilton library, there was that most rare of things: an empty parking space right outside, and on impulse I pulled into it. The parking meter had five minutes left on it. I ran into the library, and up the stairs to the computerised catalogue. The last person to use it had been doing a search on evolution, and right there on the screen was the shelving information for The Beak of the Finch. I dashed to the shelf, and the book was sitting, not with its spine showing like all the other books, but with its front cover facing outward so it could be seen from 10 feet away. I took it to the desk, had it processed and was back in my car just as the parking meter flag fell.
I expected after that, that The Beak of the Finch would be earth shattering. Oddly, it wasn't; although the book was a good read, it was not particularly helpful in forming my ideas. The collapsible kayak thing similarly, does not seem to be of any great significance. It's odd, but not earth shaking. Often, it seems that these synchronicities do not have any meaning outside of themselves other than to remind us of the interconnectedness of the universe. Which is of course, interconnected; and meaningful even on those occasions when the bits don't line up in a nice orderly fashion. I.e mostly.
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I think what that says is that you should definitely do the kayak trip. It's the most beautiful area I've been to outside of New Zealand. You should let me know if you come this direction as well. I'll meet you in Victoria or somewhere to buy you a pint.
The thing about synchronicities is that they feel like they are meaningful even when they are not. This feeling drives us to read purposes into them that are usually just rationalisations.
http://www.paultheroux.com/books/book-109.html, paying particular attention to the third paragraph down, then maybe check your library for the book. We have some very good Anglican friends at Comox on Vancouver Island, might be able to find you all real beds for a night or two!
Some time ago I met a woman in Christchurch who was a friend of my older brother, now without going into details, she called me a tosser (at the time it seemed in jest, yeah right, but like all quips of that sort it rankles one, me a tosser? humpf, snort, wheeze, gasping for air, then: F#$F%@^$F&*@@##%^F*&F ).
(Those of you who have been lying on the floor laughing, hooting at my discomfort with your legs in the air like overturned beetles, welcome back to the story) and I shall continue...
...Last week in Christchurch while walking to Ballentynes for some retail therapy for my dearly beloved and myself I was thinking about this certain lady and what she said. At the very moment that her words rang again in my ears I glanced to the left and saw written diagonally on a rubbish tin in large letters the words "Don't Be A Tosser", meaning of course: put your rubbish in the bin don't toss it away.
What does this mean? I think it means two things. First, that as already been said, these incidents point to the interconnectedness of everything and secondly that if God for his amusement on a slow day pulls a few strings, he at least has a sense of humour.
Of course if the said lady had stated "You are such a dashing, handsome fellow, so witty, intelligent and desirable, please come upstairs with me so that I can examine the cut of your jib, the size of your mizzen mast and the tautness of your forestay" and the rubbish tin declaration had stated "Beautiful People Keep Our City Beautiful" - this syncronicity would have meant something completely different.
As for the inside passage from Seattle to Glacier bay - it need not be completed in kayaks, it can be sailed in small boats where you are able to anchor in water deep enough to get a decent nonbearworrying nights sleep.
Keep a bed free I may be coming your way some time, we Kiwis are intrepid travellers :-)
In the case of the synchronicity thing, Tillerman, it does seem that that one has meaning. You were dwelling on an old hurt and the universe tells you the path to freedom from it: give it up, toss it in the bin.
How do you explain it to yourself? Did your brain/sensory system unconsciously notice the sign and then bring to mind the memory that the sign provoked before drawing your attention to it? Or was God rigging the cards? Either way, it was a message you needed. Either way the great forces of the universe were at work.
In other cases I think it is an interesting point you make - in the nano second of the two related events - which bit comes first? the environmental sign and / or incident or the memory?
Your advice is of course wise and correct in this case - throw the incident in the bin and move on - forgiveness is healthy for oneself as well as others.